Indian Summer

28 Sep

I can feel the tension in the air. The seasons are dancing again. It’s a seductive tango, each fighting so hard to be that neither actually is. The temperature tells me it’s summer, but the heat lacks in intensity. The wind tells me it’s fall, but the air has not yet found its crispness.

My heart yearns for the change. I never feel so alive as I do in the fall. Something about that chill in the air… It’s a challenge to my soul, and one that I rise to. Still, I am comfortable in the in between. I am strong and I am patient. I can bide my time, because the inevitable is coming.

This year, like all years, will end the same. The dance will change; the time for romantic entanglements over. Foot flicks and passionate embraces be damned. This is a pasodoble. The bull will be fought and the fight will be won.

But for now, I wait, and just enjoy the dance.

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